Extinction Event
by ZombifyMeCapn
Summary: When the world ended, the chaos was nearly unbearable. Screaming, sirens, explosions, riots, gunfire… The world was loud, rampant with the noises of death, our extinction event. Daryl/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So yeah, here's the new Daryl fiction I've been working on. I'm pretty excited for it since I know exactly where I want it to go. Plus, we all love those long chapters right? Anyway, here's the first installment. Please let know what you think! Happy reading! xo**

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When the world ended, the chaos was nearly unbearable. Screaming, sirens, explosions, riots, gunfire… The world was loud, rampant with the noises of death, our extinction event. Then, as humanity became the lowest link on the food chain, a despondent hush fell over the world, a sure sign that the world as we knew it was gone, dead. The sounds of the dead ruled the earth, their groans and snarls a horrible soundtrack as what was left of human life resorted to baser instincts. It became kill or be killed, dog eat dog. The cities were the first to go. The populations were too great, and when the inevitable happened, the living stood no chance against the mouths of the dead. Rumors spread at the beginning of safe havens within city limits for refugees, but, like the rest of the world, they fell fast. Nowhere was safe anymore.

I kept to the tree line, not too far from the road and not too sheltered beneath the trees. If there was an incoming threat, I needed to see it. My furry companion plodded along beside me, tongue lolling out of his mouth like a big pink, flat snake. It was curled at the edges, proving I wasn't the only one thirsty. The two of us were silent as we picked our way through the trees, looking for a place to hunker down for the night. Since this whole thing started, or ended, depending on how you look at it, I'd slept in my fair share of backseats, basements, and even trees. Desperate times. If we didn't find shelter soon, we'd be left to take cover in the woods. I hated the woods at night. The rustling, the calls of the nocturnal animals waking up for a new night of hunting and eating, the tricks the trees would play as the moon threw their shadows across the forest floor.

The sun was beginning its descent behind the crest of the highway. The cars were doused in the orange-pinky glow, a graveyard of metal and bodies. Near the crest of the small slope, there had been a pileup, and a mangled mess of twisted metal glinted in the setting sun. Despite my grievances of being in the open, we were desperate for water, desperate to stave off dehydration for as long as possible. I clicked my tongue as I stepped out of the forest, and my companion bounded out behind me. We made our way to the cars, crossing over the guardrail and entering the graveyard. Within the cars, I made out shapes of bodies, though whether they were dead or undead, I wasn't sure, but I wasn't about to risk anything. As we passed by one, a little red sedan with its airbag deployed, a body slammed up against the rear driver's side window, snarling against the glass. I skirted away from the vehicle, the dog at my side yipping in surprise but knowing to keep relatively quiet.

We skipped that vehicle, opting to dig through the trunk of the next one. An overnight bag offered a half-full bottle of water, which was immediately split between the two of us. My throat was still dry, but it was at least some reprieve. The rest of the car turned up near empty, save a small-caliber handgun in the glove compartment. It had three bullets left, but I shoved it in the back of my jeans anyways. Guns and ammunition were rare commodities these days, and every one counted for something. Just the one could be the difference between life and death, surviving or succumbing.

The next car proved to be just like the first, though there was a small bag of stale animal crackers in the backseat. I had to physically turn my head away from the baby seat in the back that was covered in blood. We moved up the highway, splitting the animal crackers evenly. I continued to search through the cars and ended up with a fairly good haul that included a fresh shirt and underwear (someone was looking out for me, I was wholly convinced), more water, some protein bars, which I regrettably could not share with my dog due to their containing chocolate, and a packet of beef jerky. I kept two pieces of that for myself and offered the rest to Ares as a compromise. The lab was more than happy to guzzle down every last crumb.

As we moved further up the highway, a dark spot on the pavement caught my eye. It had long dried, but no one could mistake the telltale appearance of blood. There was a puddle of it, next to a rusted car, and a trail drizzled up the highway away from me. Upon closer inspection, I found the possible cause—a nasty, rusted piece of broken metal on the door of the old car. The blood on the metal had dried as well, probably with a lot of help from the unrelenting Georgia sun. I glanced at Ares, who was distracted, looking off into the trees. Wary, I led us off the highway, back into the cover of the trees. I kept my eyes alert and my ears sharp, in case whoever had left that puddle of blood was still around. The trees were still, far too much in my opinion, and made it me all the warier of the woods. I hated the woods—far too many places for people or the dead to hide, though I guess I had the advantage of knowing when they were coming.

My path led me to a winding, shallow creek that tinkled in the silence of the forest. I kept to the cover of the trees for a moment, sweeping my eyes up and down the creek to ensure the coast was clear. It was unnerving, the silence. No birds, no squirrels in the trees, nothing. I hated it. With one last look I clicked my tongue and Ares and I headed down the slope to the bank of the creek. I knelt in the sand, the dampness seeping through the denim of my jeans, and reached into my pack for an empty water bottle. Ares lapped happily and noisily beside me, not a care in the world.

We moved on after the creek, keeping alert as we headed further into the forest. The sun was beginning its slow descent, and I loathed the idea of spending the night in the forest. I hummed lowly to myself, needing something to fill the silence that stretched out through the trees. I hated that I couldn't hear any signs of life; a feeling of apprehension had settled in the pit of my stomach, a sense of foreboding that I couldn't discern.

Our path eventually took us to a clearing, in the middle of which sat a ramshackle house. The shutters were hanging off their hinges, the screen door lopsided. The roof was bowed in the middle and the paint was nearly completely gone. Ares was looking at it with interest, his head raised and ears perked forwards, waiting for my command. I whistled sharply and he moved forwards to investigate. I followed behind him, watching as his black form took its time sniffing around the house. When he'd finished, and completed a full loop of the outside of the house, he sat on his haunches and waited for me to catch up. Our footsteps were silent on the porch as we moved up to the broken front door. I commanded Ares to wait and headed inside. A thick layer of dust coated every surface. The furniture was filthy, the couch as bowed as the roof over me. It was a downright mess inside.

Tables were turned over, personal decorative items spilled and broken on the floor, a mirror was smashed. I moved from room to room on the first floor, satisfied when there were no surprises waiting for me. In the kitchen, as I turned to call for Ares, a shuffle close by made me freeze. I turned towards the pantry, the door to which was open just a crack. I whistled again, and Ares's claws clicked on the wood floor. He was crouched again, his hackles raised. He wasn't growling, though, as he pointed his nose at the pantry door. My knife was silent as I drew it from its sheath, prepared to take down whatever was waiting for me in that closet.

"Come on out," I said firmly, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. While I was no stranger to the dead or the living, situations like this made me nervous still. I tightened my grip on my knife as the door slowly creaked open, and my breath caught.

I was expecting a walker, but that was most definitely not what I got.

A little girl, no older than twelve, was crouched beneath the shelves of the pantry, wide-eyed and filthy. Her stringy blonde hair hung in her face, and her blue shirt was spattered with caked mud. A quick glance at the floor of the pantry told me she'd been holing up here for at least a few days—a blanket and a pillow were squished in the small space.

I held out my empty hand as the girl started to shake and slid the knife back into its sheath. Ares was sniffing her, still keeping his distance.

"Take it easy," I said soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name, sweetie?"

"S-Sophia," she stammered, wringing her hands in front of her. "Do you know where my mom is?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. My name's Claire, and that's Ares." I smiled when Sophia's mouth turned up just a bit as she stroked Ares's dark head. "He likes you. How did you lose your mom, Sophia?"

"We were on the highway…A lot of those things came through and I got chased into the woods. I tried to listen to the policeman and find my way back but I…I got lost. I messed up." Her eyes brimmed with tears and I felt my heart lurch in my chest.

"Oh, sweetie, it wasn't your fault. But I just came from the highway, and I didn't see anyone." I felt horribly guilty when Sophia's face crumpled in agony.

"They left without me…" she cried meekly, allowing the first few tears to drip down her face. Ares whined and sat on his haunches in front of her, nudging her hand that hung limply at her side.

"Oh, Sophia, it's okay. I'm sure they just had to get out of the open. I'll help you find them, I promise. How long have you been staying here?"

Sophia sniffled and wiped her nose with her arm. "A few days…I found some cans in the cabinets. Do you want one?"

"Only if there's enough. Come on, let's get settled in the living room. No way can I fit in there with you." She giggled a little, pulled her makeshift bed out of the closet, and followed me into the living room where she dumped it on one of the musty couches. "We'll look for your family first thing in the morning, okay?"

Sophia ducked back into the kitchen and reemerged, two cans of vegetables in her hands. She looked at them and then looked at me.

"Do you want green beans or baked beans?" she asked, nibbling on her lower lip. I fought a smirk as I caught her fingers twitching over the green beans and pointed to the can of baked beans. She smiled and handed the can to me, sat down on the couch to dig into her supper. I popped the top on my cold baked beans and ate them from the can.

"So how old are you Sophia?"

"Twelve. How old are you?" she asked around a mouthful of green beans. Juice dribbled down her chin as she tilted the can towards her mouth.

"A lot older than twelve… I'm thirty-three."

"Wow, you're almost as old as my mom!"

I pointed at her, closing one eye. "Watch it, kid." She giggled, and I grinned before slurping down another gulp of my meal. I set the half-full can on the floor and whistled sharply. Ares came trotting over, sniffed at the can, and dug in.

I settled on the wide windowsill, prepared to take watch for the evening. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the field surrounding the house. On the opposite couch, Sophia began to hunker down, burrowing herself beneath the threadbare blanket. As her breathing evened out, I let out a long sigh.

Early this morning it was just Ares and me, searching for some kind of refuge from the current state of the world. It had been weeks since we'd seen people last, and then all of a sudden, a child all but landed in our laps. I'd seen the cities when they began to fall, was with families who were torn apart—from each other and quite literally—watched children cry for their parents as they became fodder for the dead. It was common knowledge—at the very least to me—that children did not last long at the end of the world. They were too flighty, too unpredictable, and unable to keep focused if danger were around. The survivalist part of me was screaming to rescind my offer of helping the girl look for her parents, take off in the middle of the night and move on.

But another glance at her sleeping form, at the clear exhaustion and worry on her face, stopped those thoughts in their tracks. How could I just leave her alone to fend for herself? She already thought her mother had left without her, yet still carried the hope of finding her. How could I just walk away from her? Despite my age, I had never had any kids of my own, so I couldn't imagine how Sophia's mother must be feeling—if she was even still alive.

Sophia believed she was, and until we knew otherwise, I made a mental promise to help her as best as I could.

The night passed uneventfully. I'd heard a couple lone roamers wandering by the house, but they suspected nothing of the house as they passed and moved on. Sophia was awake earlier than I expected her to be, only an hour or so after the sun had risen. She looked far better rested than the day before, though there were still dark circles under her eyes that stood out starkly against her pale skin. We had a small breakfast of a breakfast bar each, and then we began packing our things to move out in search of Sophia's group.

Ares sat by the door, his tail thumping against the wood floor, waiting for us. I tossed my knapsack onto my back after making sure it was closed before looking towards Sophia.

The girl was holding her doll, her gaze bouncing between the front door and the small closet she'd been holed up in. I could see the hesitation in her eyes, the uncertainty that came with leaving a notable structure that might reunite her with her family. I chewed the inside of my lip for a moment, letting her have a moment.

"We can't stay, Sophia," I told her gently. She looked at me slowly, a reluctant understanding in her eyes. She nodded silently and walked forward towards the door. I rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort, squeezing lightly. "Ready?"

At her nod, I held up a hand for her to wait as I slowly opened the door and peered out. The field that lay beyond was devoid of any life. The air was stagnant and already warm; we had another hot Georgia summer day to look forward to. I gestured for Sophia to follow me as Ares trotted down the front steps and into the grass. His ears were perked and listening as we silently followed him back into the trees.

Our trek through the woods was relatively uneventful; we had managed to avoid a small cluster of the dead by hiding amongst some thick bushes. Sophia surprised me yet again with her ability to keep calm and quiet, though her eyes did tear up a bit when the moaning dead staggered by, unaware of our presence. She waited, crouched in the brush, until I gave her the signal that the coast was clear. I supposed she'd quickly learned her lesson from the first time. She stepped out from behind the brush, Ares on her heels, and we continued.

Our route took us back up near the highway, where Sophia had been separated from her group. This part of the freeway was badly congested with cars upturned and smashed. Garbage littered the ground, and the stench of decay was light on the air. We crept quietly up the highway, rummaging through cars on our way. We managed to scrounge up a few more granola bars, a half-full bottle of water, and a flashlight with working batteries.

We spent much of the day the same—scavenging supplies and looking for traces of Sophia's group. Unfortunately, her child's memory wasn't exactly reliable, and so she couldn't remember if she'd hidden under this truck or that truck. Combined with the heat and the utter exhaustion, her confusion and lack of recollection was beginning to wear my patience thin. But I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to discourage her from trying to remember. I could see the frustration on her face, as she ran a hand through her choppy blonde hair. Tears of exasperation had sprung to her eyes, making them glitter in the sunlight.

"Hey," I called softly, taking a small step towards her. I laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her from panicking. "It's okay. We're going to find them. It's okay if you can't remember. Everyone leaves a trail. We just have to find it. But you've got to stay calm for me, okay?"

With a sniff, she nodded and wiped her nose with her arm before pulling herself together. I had to hand it to that kid; she was stronger than she looked. We moved on up the highway, continuing our search for any sign that anyone had been there. Up ahead, the sun reflected off the cab of a box truck, its side hatch rolled all the way up. A disbelieving laugh left my lips on an exhale as I realized it was a water truck.

"Sophia!" I called over my shoulder. She pulled her head out of the backseat of a truck and jogged over to me. I bent to her level and pointed at the van, watched her face light up.

"I remember that truck!" she said excitedly, taking me by surprise. "Glenn and the police officer opened it! We're here! This is where we were stopped!"

I didn't say it aloud, but I was thanking whatever higher power was up there that we'd finally found a sign. My back and arms were sore, and my shirt was clinging to my body thanks to the buckets of sweat pouring off me. We approached the van and I popped the top on one of the gallon jugs, letting it fall in a beautiful cascade to splatter on the pavement. Ares stuck his head under the spray, lapping up a belly full of water and spraying our legs as he drank.

"Drink up, kid," I told Sophia, tugging her to stand under the spray. She opened her mouth wide and drank her fill, ducked her head under the water to cool her reddening skin. Sunblock was a fossil now, a rare find in the desolation of the world. Once Sophia had finished, I did the same, relishing in the cool water as it flowed across my skin.

I pulled away from the jug, breathless and thirst thoroughly quenched. Then I dug out the water bottles from my backpack, dumping out the old and refilling all of them with fresh water. We moved on, searching for any other signs of Sophia's group. As we weaved between abandoned cars, a dark spot on the pavement made me hesitate and turn. I swallowed, recognizing the spot clearly as a blood stain. It was completely dry, at least a few days old, with a few gravitational blood spots leading back down the highway the way we came. Uneasy settled in my gut, my senses on high alert.

"Uh, Claire?" I whipped my head around, searching for Sophia amongst the wreckage. I found her blonde head staring into the smashed rear window of a sedan. I stepped up beside her, knife drawn in defense. But my grip loosened slightly as I followed her eyes. In the backseat of the sedan sat an empty car seat, infant-sized, caked in dark, dried blood, tissue, and other remains of a human.

I swallowed thickly and took a step back away from the car. Despite the heat, a coldness ran over me, spread from the back of my neck down my spine, leaving a tremor in its wake. I'd seen my fair share of death since the world went to hell, but knowing a mere child, a baby, barely out of the womb, had fallen victim to the dead did something horridly unpleasant to my insides. I glanced at Sophia; her expression matched my inner turmoil, and so I pinched the back of her shirt and tugged her away from the car.

"Come on, Sophia," I urged quietly. "We need to move on." She sighed through her nose and turned towards me, nodding as she looked up at me.

"I hope it was quick," Sophia said after a few beats of silence, and my stomach plummeted, though I kept my face neutral and murmured an agreement. Hiking my pack higher, I kept an arm loosely around her shoulder and pulled her along beside me.

We walked a little further, continuing our trek with no further sign of Sophia's group. We bypassed a pale-yellow Mustang, and I promptly halted in my tracks. Lying on the hood was a cacophony of supplies—water, juice, crackers, and canned goods—and written on the windshield in some kind of paint:

 _SOPHIA, STAY HERE. WE WILL COME BACK_

 _EVERY DAY._

 _Finally, something concrete_ , I thought to myself as Sophia and I shared excited grins. We both looked around, hoping that they hadn't been here already.

Then the sound of a humming motor drew our attention. It was loud and approaching fast and I craned my neck to look over the tops of the vehicles crammed on the other side of the highway. A large black truck was just cresting the hill at breakneck speed, weaving expertly around the wreckage. I looked to Sophia, hope all over my face but it fell once I took in her worried look.

"I don't know that truck…" she muttered. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed her and forced her to kneel with me and together we crept around the front of the Mustang, keeping low as we ducked back into the trees. Better to watch from a distance. Ares dashed into the woods in front of us, tongue lolling out as he waited.

We hid amongst bushes and I peeled back a branch to watch the truck as it squealed to a stop directly across the highway from the Mustang. The doors flew open and five men stepped out, dressed in what looked like SWAT fatigues. They wore grey cargo pants and black shirts, and they were armed—heavily armed. Their truck was fixed with a machine gun in the bed, and each man had two handguns at his side and a rifle in his hand. Whoever these men were, I was positive we did not want to get caught.

They crossed the grass median, keeping distance between each other as they scouted the highway. When they came to the Mustang, on reflex I crouched lower, making sure to keep silent in the leaves. One of the men picked up a can on the hood and turned to read the message on the windshield. He looked around, dropping the can and adjusting his rifle.

"Fan out!" he barked to the men behind him. "Check everything!"

Beside me, Sophia whimpered quietly, and I grabbed her hand in what I hoped was comfort. She squeezed back, turned to look up at me with shining eyes. I hoped my expression was calming her, for inside I felt as anxious as she looked. The men were making a racket up on the highway as they searched the empty cars, slamming doors and trunks and kicking debris all over the place. As their voices faded, I knew we had to move to minimize the chance of being caught. So, looking at Sophia, I held a finger to my lips and slowly backed up, mindful of the twig behind my foot. Sophia followed, doing exactly as I did, stepping heel to toe to avoid making any kind of sound.

Rising, we turned and quickly but still quietly headed further into the trees, avoiding puddles, sticks, branches, anything that would alert the men to our presence. We kept that pace until the highway was no longer within our sights, and then we broke into a run to put even more distance between us. Ares was nearly silent as he bounded through the woods, making sure not to run too far ahead of us.

We came to a clearing some time later when I decided we'd gone far enough. It was way off course of the highway, veering off to the east. We stopped in the clearing to catch our breaths, hands on our knees as we bent over.

"Who were those men?" Sophia asked once she'd caught her breath. I straightened and laced my fingers on my head as I panted.

"I don't know, but they didn't look friendly. Better we keep away from the highway for a little."

"But what about my mom and the others? What if they come back to the highway and we're not there? What if they come back and they find those men?"

All very good questions that I didn't have the answers to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed the first chapter! I know first chapters usually aren't much to go on, so I'm glad I got some feedback :) Here is chapter number two!**

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I made the decision to call it a day, despite Sophia's polite protests of continuing. But daylight was fading. We hunkered down in a thicket, surrounded by boughs of an evergreen. The thicket was big enough for me, Sophia, and Ares to huddle together in, and we ate a meal of cold beans for dinner before hunkering down for the night. The sun was nearly set, and the creatures of the forest grew silent. Ares sighed beside me and I rested a hand on his soft head, scratching softly. I was leaning up against the rough bark of a tree, but I hardly felt it as the day's events caught up to me.

I stayed awake as long as I could, but sometime during the night, I dozed.

When I woke the next morning, Sophia was awake and sitting cross-legged across from me, trying to, what appeared to me, teach Ares a new trick.

"Paw," she said, drawing it out as she held out her hand to him. The lab just blinked at her lazily and opened his mouth to pant, and she sighed, slouching in defeat. I found myself smiling softly and alerted them both by yawning.

"Good morning," Sophia chirped. "How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly," I said, cracking my back, "not all that bad considering I had a tree for a mattress."

"Me too. I was warm, too."

"Bushes will help with that. So, the plan for today is to head back closer to the highway and see if your mom will show up. We'll keep to the trees though in case those men decide to come back. Got it?"

"Got it."

We climbed none-too-gracefully out of the thicket and Ares shook himself out before promptly finding a tree to mark. Sophia giggled girlishly and hid her mouth with her hand, causing me to smile wryly. I was happy to see she hadn't totally succumbed to the darkness this new world brought.

At least not yet.

As we headed back to the highway, we snacked on a granola bar, splitting it between the three of us to conserve our stores. We walked mostly in silence for a little while, until Ares stopped and growled low in his throat, his hackles raising along his back. I swung an arm out in front of Sophia to stop her and she squeaked at the sight of a group of four roamers staggering towards us, all in a varied state of decay. Two of them looked severely burnt, for all that was left of their faces was black, charred skin. They smelled terrible as they drew closer, and Ares leapt forward, distracting two of them.

Dropping my pack, I shoved Sophia behind a tree and drew my knife, dancing around the pair as they snarled and snapped their teeth. One reached out and managed to curl its dead fingers into the sleeve of my jacket, trying to tug me closer. With my opposite arm I slammed it down on its elbow, grimacing as the elbow separated from the body, leaving a puddle of black goo on the leaves. The fingers relaxed and the arm dropped from my body, leaving me free to bury my knife to the hilt in the roamer's temple. It dropped with a thud, and a snarl behind me made me glance over my shoulder.

Ares was running circles around his roamers, keeping them occupied while I took care of the fourth. My knife unavailable, I bent for a rock and twirled it in my hands, biding my time. When the roamer lunged, mouth open wide, I spun to the left and it staggered past me. I kicked it in the back of the knee, sending it sprawling face-first into the ground before kneeling on its back and bringing the rock down on its head until it stopped moving.

Using the bloody rock, I threw it hard at one of the roamers chasing Ares, knocking it off balance. It went down on its knees and I used my boot to cave its skull in. I exhaled as I slipped in the muck from its skull and turned to the last roamer. It lunged for Ares, nearly catching his tail in its dead hands.

"Ares, away," I ordered loudly with a wave of my arm. Ares bounded behind me and I had the roamer's full attention. Weaponless, I glanced around me, finding a hefty branch lying not five feet from me. With one eye on the roamer I dashed towards it and raised it like a bat, swinging heavily to crush its skull in one blow. It hit the ground with a wet thud, oozing fluid over the forest floor.

I tossed the stick, panting, and stepped over to the first burnt roamer to yank my knife from its skull. I grimaced, wiped the muck on its tattered shirt.

"Sophia? It's safe, come on out." Her blonde head appeared behind the tree and she stepped out into the small clearing, visibly shaken. "It's okay. I'm fine, Ares is fine. Hey, do you see that?"

Above her head, through a break in the trees, a large pillar of white smoke billowed into the sky. Sophia turned to look up with me and I heard her intake of breath.

"We should check that out," she said, and I hummed an agreement. So with a new plan in mind, we gathered our supplies and headed towards the tower of smoke. "What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure. An explosion or something."

"Maybe it's a signal fire. We learned about those at summer camp, how you need to make it big enough to be seen from a distance."

"That's right." I didn't voice my concerns that no one in his or her right mind should be sending up a signal fire, not now, not with people the way they were. I had my reservations about this smoke cloud, but nevertheless, it needed to be investigated.

It was midafternoon when we came to the edge of the tree line. I stopped us at the rim of the forest, looked out across the newly-opened spans of land before us. It looked like a farm, and we'd come to a pasture. The pasture was clear of walkers, but across the long grass we found the source of the smoke. As we crossed the field, the remnants of a barn loomed in front of us. A little white farmhouse sat fifty yards away, seemingly untouched. The front door was opened. My attention, however, was drawn to the numerous bodies strewn across the property—all of them roamers. Some kind of battle took place here, and recently. A burned RV was parked next to the barn.

"What happened here?" I muttered, staring up at the blood coating the inside of the RV's windows.

"This is Dale's RV…" Sophia whimpered. I turned to her, and she had tears streaming down her face. "My group, my mom…they were here. Now they're…"

"We don't know that, Sophia. Look, there are no other cars here, see? You had a big group, right?" She nodded and wiped her nose. "I bet a bunch, if not all, of them made it out of here." Some unlucky bastard just happened to volunteer for RV duty and ended up as roamer bait, but I kept that happy little thought to myself.

We wandered the property more, scouring the bodies for any that Sophia might have recognized. Closer to the house, some poor older blonde woman lay staring lifelessly upwards, her body a gaping, raggedy, bloody mess. There wasn't enough left of her to turn. Sophia cowered away from her, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulder to steer her away. So far, no one from Sophia's group was among the bodies.

"Let's see if we can find anything useful," I told her before heading up to the house. As I turned, something white caught my eye. Four handmade and painted crosses stood erect on the edge of the property. I stepped closer to inspect them. Names had been carved into the wood on the crosses.

Dale—the owner of the RV?—Annette, Shawn, and… I frowned.

Sophia's name was the last one carved on a cross.

"They thought I was dead…" I jumped at her sudden proximity and frowned even deeper as fresh tears leaked out of her eyes. I hugged her to me tightly and she let herself sniffle.

"Oh, honey. Wait and see how happy they'll be once they find out they were wrong. Come on, let's head up to the house."

The house was a goldmine of supplies. Medicine, suture kits, gauze, plus a seemingly endless amount of canned food waited for us inside. It was as if the place was completely untouched. Sophia took care of the kitchen and living room and I headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. The first one I came to was a guest room, it seemed. A typical country quilt lay on the full-size bed, rumpled from its last inhabitant. I snatched it, rolling it tightly to stuff it into my pack. Then I followed it up with clothes from the drawers in the remaining bedrooms. Two girls, perhaps just slightly older than Sophia, had lived here. Most of their clothes were small, so they'd fit me and Sophia could grow into them.

My pack was practically spilling over as I tried to stuff even more clothing into it, but when I couldn't, I was forced to abandon it. Downstairs, Sophia had gathered herself a nice little pile of supplies.

"These were our tents," she said sadly, staring at the bags before her. I smiled sadly and hefted one of them onto my shoulder.

"Let's take two, just in case, and we can leave the rest. Ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Once outside, I looked around once more and paused at the sight of a second barn, untouched and closed. A paddock was attached to the side and suddenly a lightbulb went off in my head.

"Hey Sophia? Come on. Let's go this way. I think there might be a horse in this barn."

"Really?" A quick little smile brightened her face. "I always wanted to learn to ride, but Daddy never let me."

"That's a shame. I took some lessons when I was your age too. Have to say it's been a while since I've been in the saddle, though."

I pulled the door open slowly, relieved when snorting instead of snarling welcomed me. I smiled, opened the door wider, and stepped inside. A single dark horse had its head over its stall door, its ears perked. As I neared it, it flattened its ears and jerked away, no doubt terrified I was a roamer.

"Easy," I cooed, and to my relief, the horse seemed to relax the more I spoke to him. I reached out to touch his nose. "That's a good boy. I'm not going to hurt you. What's say we get you out of there huh?"

Laying down my heavy pack, I gathered up a saddle and bridle and quickly tacked the horse, led him out into the aisle. Sophia was in awe and Ares reached out with his nose to sniff a leg. The horse stamped its foot and Ares yelped in surprise. Sophia and I laughed, and then I helped her onto the horse's back. I handed up her pack and the tent bags, which she clutched tightly to her front, and then I grabbed my pack and somehow hefted myself into the saddle. Taking the reins, I nudged the horse into a trot and we left the barn and the property, heading back into the woods.

We covered ground way faster on horseback, and I couldn't deny the joy of being in the saddle once again. We rode up a ridge along the creek, and not long after that I felt Sophia's full weight on me. Bending around her, I smiled upon seeing that she'd dozed off, probably lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying of the horse.

We rode on like that for a week; I alternated between riding and leading the horse on foot to keep him from tiring out, and Sophia began taking watch through the night. Since the farm, we had seen no further sign of Sophia's group, and we were both feeling the effect. Sophia's mood was worsening until I had to work to get even a trace of a smile from her. She was outwardly expressing the frustration I was keeping locked inside. I had to be strong, for her, for both of us, and I hated to think where our morale would wind up should I let myself succumb.

But in the farthest recesses of my mind, I was beginning to doubt that we would find them. We hadn't seen any sign of a living person since the men on the highway, and we were fortunate that we hadn't run into them again. Roamers were in abundance. Sophia and I had hidden from them more than killed them, but I was beginning to realize that, sooner or later, she needed to learn how to defend herself, how to handle and respect a weapon, how to replace that childish skittishness with bravery and steadfastness.

But still we saw no sign of human presence two weeks after that. We had found a ramshackle hunting cabin on the edge of the forest a few dozen miles north of Atlanta. Our stores were dwindling a bit, so I took it upon myself to learn how to hunt and fish using only what I had. On one of our few runs into towns—we tended to avoid them as much as possible—I managed to find myself a suppressor and a handgun that it fit. Ammunition was running low, so the handgun wouldn't be useful for hunting. A second trip to a picked-over Dick's Sporting Goods fixed that problem, however. I managed to find a compound bow that had been kicked under one of the shelving units and a handful of arrows for it. I put it to use that same day as a trio of roamers came ambling out of the stockroom, all wearing uniforms. My aim left something to be desired but the Three Dead Amigos made for pretty decent target practice.

We'd lost the horse about a week back to an unfortunate accident. He'd slipped on some rocks along a rocky bank next to the river and had snapped his foreleg like a twig. It was only humane to put him out of his misery, and it hurt to do so, but he'd fed us well. Sophia had cried as we'd dressed the carcass, and I had to steel myself against doing so too. I made sure to whisper a thank you to him before I put him down.

I took to the woods every morning until early afternoon, hoping to put my hunting skills to the real test. For my first few kills, which only consisted of a couple of rabbits and a fat opossum, the nausea and horror of killing a living thing nearly made me lose my lunch, but then the survivalist side of me reared her head and told me to cowboy up to keep Sophia and Ares fed.

Speaking of our canine companion, he turned out to be quite the squirrel catcher. He chased them out from the underbrush and like lightning, he'd have them locked in his jaws. When my hunts were successful, we gave the squirrel meat to Ares; I thought it tasted kind of gamey myself and Sophia usually passed in favor of a can of beans.

Sophia was sorting mushrooms when I returned one afternoon, my belt laden with a skunk, who tried and failed to spray me, a rabbit, and two squirrels—which, mind you, make for difficult targets, thank you very much. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the meat and she set aside her mushrooms. I had to give the girl props; it only took her three skinned carcasses to grow nerves of steel and quit throwing up at the sight of freshly-killed animal innards. She eagerly stood and scurried across the cabin to get the bucket to catch the innards.

"You're getting better with that," she exclaimed, following me out the back of the cabin. To keep the dead away from the cabin, we'd chosen a spot to clean our kills behind the building, further into the woods. We were sure to bury the remains well, but one could never be too careful now.

"I think I am," I agreed, swinging the belt of kills onto the ground. I plopped down on a stump and Sophia sat across from me, the bucket between us. I yanked my knife from my boot—a spare that I'd found that was for skinning kills only—and handed it to her, handle first. "You remember how to skin a skunk?"

Her expression pinched for a moment as she thought, but then she grinned and nodded excitedly. I passed the dead animal to her by its tail and she laid it on a large rock I'd found that served pretty well as a table of sorts. I watched her, in mild fascination, as she sliced the animal down the middle of its belly, her face the picture of concentration.

"You're getting faster," I observed as she deftly yanked the black and white pelt from the body. I took it from her to hang and treat. Once winter came, it would come in handy. Georgia wasn't particularly frigid in the winter, but it was cold enough that we would need the extra warmth.

Sophia shot me a triumphant grin before she split the animal open and began pulling out the innards, stark red against her tanned hands. Within minutes, the skunk was finished and she was starting on the rabbit. By the time we'd finished, Ares was eyeing the squirrels hungrily and my own stomach was grumbling at the prospect of a hot meal.

Back inside the cabin, the meat roasted on a spit above the fire, filling the small space with its aroma. Sophia picked up a can of green beans and popped it open, setting it near the fire to warm up.

Despite her earlier cheerfulness, Sophia's mood seemed to dampen as we ate; she stared listlessly into the fire, lost in her own head. I stretched out a leg and nudged her with my boots.

"You okay?" I asked around a mouthful of beans. Over the past few weeks, I'd gotten to know Sophia very well. Her mannerisms, her moods. What once was a shy, skittish, terrified girl, now stood a strong, capable young woman in her place. I liked to think I'd helped her along the way to become a survivalist, to harden herself against the horrors of this new world. The only thing we hadn't yet accomplished was a roamer kill, but we were getting there.

Sophia seemed reluctant to answer at first, chewing slowly to occupy her mouth. But then she looked at me and I was struck with the despair and loss I suddenly saw in her eyes. I knew what was coming; she went through an episode like this once a week. Mostly she held it together, but sometimes, especially within the semi-safe confines of our little cabin, she let it out, where she knew she could cry without risking giving away our position to a cluster of roamers.

"I miss my mom," she whispered, sniffling once before wiping her nose on her arm, and then she composed herself. She held it together in front of me, but I knew that later, as I kept watch outside, she would let herself cry into her pillow for her lost mother, her group.

I reached over, like I did every time she felt like this, and laid a hand on her knee. Before Sophia, I'd kept myself locked up tight so long that I wasn't sure anymore how to outwardly show emotion. Sadness, happiness, grief, loss… It was all unknown to me, foreign. But I felt awkward sitting there, my hand on her knee, as she stared off into the flames, picturing where her family might be.

Without being fully aware of it, I started speaking.

"My husband and I got separated at the start of all this. He was away on business for a few weeks, and I'd stayed home in Georgia. He called me the night everything started here; he said they were already two days in with no signs of things rectifying. He told me to stay at home, stay put, and he'd come home. So I did, for a few days, and when he didn't come home, I knew I couldn't stay. So I gathered supplies, grabbed Ares, and we tried to get out of Georgia. I'd resigned myself to the fact that we might not see each other ever again. It was…difficult, the first few days after I came to that conclusion, and I didn't do anything but cry."

"Do you think he's dead?" Sophia asked meekly, still staring at the fire. I sighed through my nose and set down my nearly-empty bowl. I bent my knees and rested my elbows on them, locking my fingers together.

"I don't know. I think I would know if he was. We had that kind of relationship," I said wistfully, with a sad smile. Suddenly the wall I'd kept up seemed to crack a little, and I felt my throat tighten and my eyes sting. God, I hadn't cried in months. It felt weird.

I cleared my throat and built the wall right back up. _You can be sentimental later._ I stood, picking up our dishes to wash them in the small sink at the back of the cabin. One thing we'd definitely noticed was that it still had running water, so we were able to wash up during the day. The water was ice cold, but against the heat of the summer, it was a welcome reprieve.

"It's okay to feel sad," Sophia said to me quietly as I kept my back to her. My shoulders stiffened, but I continued to listen. "I know you're sad sometimes. I can see it when you think you're hiding it really well. It's okay to miss him, as long as you don't let it consume you, right?"

I smiled fondly, turning to look at her over my shoulder. "As long as it doesn't consume you. When'd you get so smart?"

"When I met you."

Her words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. We held eye contact, and my throat bobbed as I swallowed thickly. Since I'd never had kids, I'd never known that motherly instinct, that unconditional love. But Sophia was rapidly changing that. I cared for her like she was my own daughter, protected her, even loved her. I wasn't sure how she'd managed it within a month of traveling together, but she did, and now I wasn't ever letting her go.

After cleaning up, Sophia took Ares to the couch and laid down with him. He rested his head on his paws, watching me as I gathered a bottle of water, my bow, and a flashlight to keep me company on watch. The light in the cabin went out behind me, and I heard Sophia moving around trying to get comfortable. I took up my post outside the door, leaning against one of the columns and staring off into the dark.

As the night stretched on before me, I let my mind wander to my husband and where he might be. Reality told me he was more than likely dead, but the more irrational part of me, the part that was slowly appearing beneath the surface, didn't want to believe it. I would know it if he were dead; like twins had that ability, so did my husband and I. And I wasn't yet filled with despair that he was gone, didn't feel a hole in my chest that took his shape. I refused to believe he was dead.

I would see him again, in this world or the next, I was sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This one's a little shorter, but it's eventful! I actually rewrote this because the first version didn't feel right. This one definitely does. Thank you so much to everyone who's followed and favorited this story so far! Please let me all know what you think. :)**

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We woke to trouble the next morning. Unfortunately, peace and paradise didn't last long in this world, and we were no exception. I'd gone inside just before dawn to close my eyes for a few minutes of rest; Sophia had been taking watch in small shifts until she could resist a child's easy exhaustion. I was woken by her shaking my shoulder, whispering fiercely that there were roamers outside—a lot of them. Instantly, adrenaline coursed through me and we gathered what we could in our packs.

I held a finger to my lips, urging her to be quiet as we ducked out of the way of the windows. Through the dirty glass, I counted at least four roamers, but more were milling around the cabin. Internally I sighed. _Nothing gold can stay._ Ares was at my side, ears perked and hackles raised, lip curled in a silent snarl.

"Okay," I whispered, crouching low next to Sophia, "I'm going to knock on the front door, draw them towards this end. Then we're going to make a run for it out the back, lose them in the woods. Ready?"

Sophia, wide-eyed but strong, nodded firmly. She moved silently to the door, Ares beside her, and they waited. I took a couple deep breaths and then crept to the front door. One more look was thrown at Sophia, and then I raised my fist and started pounding on the door. The effect was almost immediate. I threw my body against the door as the roamers began pounding against the wood, anxious to get inside. But they did what I wanted and left the back of the cabin free for our escape.

"Ready?" I called to Sophia over the groaning and snarling. She nodded, casting one fearful glance to the door as the wood bowed. She put her hand on the doorknob at the back and I held up one hand, counting down from three. On one, I pushed off the door and propelled myself to the back of the cabin, allowing the roamers to crack the wood and seep into the cabin like a diseased flood.

Sophia and Ares were waiting for me, and I managed to curl my hand around the door to yank it closed behind me.

But luck runs out.

As the door slammed closed, my fingers were caught between it and the door frame, and I heard more than felt the bones crack. I cried out and yanked my hand away, pulling the door closed with my uninjured hand against the roamers as they made it to the back of the cabin. Adrenaline pumping wildly, I cradled my injured hand to my chest and urged Sophia and Ares forward into the trees just as the first of the roamers rounded the corner of the cabin.

We ran at a breakneck pace to put as much distance between us and the dead as possible. We didn't stop running until our sides were splitting. As the adrenaline wore off, so did my temporary painkiller, and as we finally slowed to a stop, my broken fingers screamed in pain. I grimaced and pulled my hand away from my body to inspect the damage. My middle, ring, and pinky fingers were bent at awkward angles and were quickly bruising. Tremors shot through my hand as I examined them, and Sophia gasped beside me.

"Claire! Are you all right?" she asked, worry pinching her face. We looked down at my hand together and I managed a nod.

"I'm fine, but I think they're broken. I need to splint them. Can you find me three small twigs?" Sophia nodded and scoured the ground, coming up a few moments later with exactly what I asked for. "Okay, now you need to peel the bark off in strings on one of the twigs. We're going to use those as strings to tie the splints. Now, gently, use your nail and peel it off in a single strip. There ya go. Now, I'm going to hold these twigs against my fingers, and you need to tie that string around them all, very gently. Here we go."

The pain was blinding as I held my fingers still so Sophia could secure the twigs. I exhaled a sharp breath in place of crying out, my hand shaking even worse. Finally, Sophia finished the knot and stepped back. My fingers were still shaking and still in agonizing pain, but at least they would—hopefully—heal straight. I tried to tune out the painful pulsing in my fingers in order to figure out where we would be headed next. We managed to grab all of our cans of food as well as a few of the water bottles we'd refilled with boiled stream water. I gave Ares a drink of water and took a long pull from one myself before capping it one-handed and shoving it back in my bag.

"Come on," I started, rising to my feet. I kept my splinted hand cradled to my chest protectively. "We've gotta put some more distance between us and those roamers before they figure out where we've gone."

Sophia kept pace with me as we trekked even further into the woods. She hissed when she skirted by some thorn bushes and snagged her arm on one but she hardly spared it a glance. We were far too used to them by now, and I found myself wishing we could just find a housing development that was still untouched by all of this, just so I wouldn't have to trip over any more fallen logs or spear myself on branches.

The woods were hot and muggy, and my shirt clung to me like a second skin. Exhaustion was taking its toll. Paired with next to no sleep for the past month, the heat was slowing me down. Even on Sophia's face it was obvious that we were both feeling rundown. Dark circles took up permanent residence under our eyes, our stomachs were constantly cramping from lack of a proper diet, and our strength was waning.

We needed to find somewhere more permanent soon, or we'd both fall.

In a hot and sweaty daze, I hardly noticed the railroad tracks until I'd fallen on my face, nearly jamming my chin on the metal on the other side. I managed to catch myself in my weakened state on my forearms, and I couldn't help but yelp as my broken fingers were jostled. I kept them tucked to my chest, breathing heavily through my nose as I waited for the pain to subside. The fingers were bruised to a dark and ugly purple, and I momentarily wondered if they would ever heal.

"Son of a bitch," I groaned. Crunching footsteps sounded behind me before Sophia wrapped her arms around my bicep and hauled me to my feet.

"Smooth move, Grace," she chirped, helping in dusting down my front. I quirked an eyebrow.

"You know, you've gotten sassy in your old age," I retorted, clenching my teeth against the pain in my hand. I straightened my pack, hefting it higher on my shoulder.

"Old? You're one to talk!"

"Oh, she's got a mouth on her," I jested, ruffling her hair with my good hand. She giggled quietly and Ares yipped, wanting to join in on the sudden playfulness. It was short-lived, though, as my fingers throbbed again and I hissed.

"How are your fingers?" Sophia asked, leaning forward to look down at the purple digits. The twig splints weren't working as well as I'd hoped, but they were keeping my fingers straight.

"Hurt like hell," I replied honestly. "We need to find somewhere semi-permanent. Moving around so much isn't helping them heal."

We continued on after that, and Sophia forced me into a half-assed game of I, Spy. Every other answer was a tree, a rock, the train tracks, another tree, a roamer… The roamer was hardly a threat as it was pinned beneath a fallen tree. It snarled and groaned, reaching out its one good arm towards us, but we merely walked on by.

Up ahead, the trees on the right parted to open up to a clearing with a view to a field down below. As we passed it, I stopped in my tracks.

"I spy with my little eye, a safe haven," I breathed, looking out across the fields.

Two rows of fences surrounded the entire property, and beyond, the prison loomed, a dark shape against the bright sun. Two watch towers stood sentry, and the entire building looked untouched.

Except for the fact that there were people—living people—working in the field, tending to what looked like a plot of crops. Not too far away sat a makeshift shed surrounded by a fence, and in the middle of the pasture was an honest to God horse. Voices carried across the open space, and a couple of them sounded like children's voices.

I felt the breath leave my lungs rapidly, and out of disbelief I rubbed my eyes, wanting to make sure I was actually seeing this. Beside me Sophia was looking out as well, her eyes scanning the landscape hopefully.

"You think my group might be down there?" she asked, turning wide eyes up to me. I hugged her close to my side.

"Only one way to find out. Come on."

We took the slope slowly to avoid the roots and tangled brush. Once we hit the bottom, we took cover behind some bushes. I peered through the branches, narrowing my eyes as I took in the number of roamers wandering the outside of the fences. Closer to the gate, they'd begun clustering, and the chain-link fence bowed under their combined weight. A few of the people behind the fence looked over warily and then two of them headed down to the gate, long poles in their hands.

I watched as they opened up the main gate and began spreading the roamers out by banging on the fence and yelling. Like starved dogs, the roamers followed. I ducked even lower when one of the survivors, a young Asian man, drew a cluster of roamers to the portion of fence right in front of the bush we were hiding behind. I watched as he popped them through the fence with the pole.

Once the roamers were dead, the man began to walk back towards the gate. Now was our chance. I took a deep breath and looked at Sophia.

"Stay here, wait for me to call you," I ordered calmly. She nodded after a moment, and I stepped out from behind the bush.

"Hello?" I called. The man whirled around, dropping his pole in favor of reaching for a gun behind his back. He quickly aimed it at me, though I noticed it shook.

"Don't come closer. Who are you?" he demanded, going against his own order by taking a step closer to me. I held my hands up, wincing as my broken one protested the movement.

"My name's Claire. Yours?"

"…Glenn."

"Glenn," I repeated with a nod. Then, with a small wry smile I gestured at the gun. "Mind lowering that?"

"I would actually," he shot back. We turned our heads simultaneously as footsteps thudded against the grass, and we were quickly joined by a young woman with short dark hair.

"Glenn?" she asked with a southern twang. Her eyes turned to me and then I had two guns raised on me. "Everything all right?"

"Peachy," I replied, "at least on your side of the fence. Not really the case on mine."

"What do you want?" the woman asked, brushing off my attempt at humor.

"Honestly? A chance. A bed to sleep in for the night, a meal if it weren't too much trouble."

"Asking a lot these days," Glenn retorted. The barrel of his gun dipped a bit as he weighed the option of lowering it.

"I know."

"You injured?" He nodded down to my cradled, bruised hand.

"Broken fingers. Jammed them in a door."

"You alone?"

I hesitated. "No."

"Where's your group?" the woman asked. She kept her gun raised but pointed lower at my chest. I swallowed and had a brief passing thought that this might not have been my best idea. It didn't go unknown by me that when the world changed, humanity did too. Rules of morality were warped; it was survival of the fittest.

With that thought in mind, I turned my head and called over my shoulder, "Come on out."

Slowly, Sophia's blonde head appeared from behind the bush and Ares followed her out. Both moved slowly, the former eyeing the pair on the other side of the fence warily. They came to a stop on either side of me, and I didn't miss the way the Glenn's face seemed to change to one of shock.

"Get Rick," he said hurriedly to the woman beside him. When she gave him a look, he all but shouted, "Go!"

The woman needed no further instruction as she turned and ran back towards the gate, yelling for this man named Rick as she went. By now, Glenn had lowered and holstered his weapon.

"Sophia?" he asked. I whipped my head down to look at her to see her take a small step closer to me, huddling into my side. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Sophia, is that you?"

There was a pregnant awkward pause, where Sophia gazed at Glenn, trying to search her memory. I looked back and forth between the two of them, and I could only conclude that Glenn had been part of her missing group, but Sophia didn't remember him. In this period of silence, more footsteps sounded, and four other people, all armed, joined Glenn on the other side of the fence. A weight hit me in the chest as one of the newcomers, a woman with short grey hair let out an anguished cry.

"Oh my god, Sophia!" She pressed herself against the fence, tears streaming down her face. I glanced down at Sophia to see the same look mirrored on her face.

"Momma," she sobbed. "Momma."

They embraced through the fence, made difficult since the Sophia's mother couldn't fit her arms through the chain-link, but she made do. She turned to the men behind her. One of them was taller than the rest, with dark hair streaked with grey and a beard to match. He wore a holster on his hip, the end of a revolver just peeking over the leather. The other was about three shades darker than his comrade due to the dirt and grime coating his skin. His face was concealed behind a curtain of greasy hair and he held a crossbow loosely down by his side.

"Let them through," the woman sobbed. Apparently, her expression brooked no argument because Glenn was waving Sophia and I down the fence towards the front gates. A few roamers had been drawn to the commotion and ambled after us.

Once we reached the gate, Glenn and the young woman passed by us to dispose of the small group of roamers tailing us, putting them down quickly and quietly before ushering us through the gate. I smiled softly as Sophia then collided with her mother, no longer separated by the fence.

"I thought you were dead," the woman admitted into Sophia's hair. Her face was crinkled with emotion, an endless river of tears streaking through the dirt on her face. She pulled away slightly to hold Sophia's face in her hands. "My God, you got so tall."

The tall man with the revolver watched the reunion with an unreadable look on his face before he turned to me.

"Name's Rick," he said, his voice gruff as he stepped closer to me. He stuck out a hand.

"Claire." I took it gingerly before letting go quickly. At my feet, Ares yipped. "This is Ares."

"Where'd you find her?" asked the filthy man behind him.

"Found her holed up in a farmhouse pantry. Poor thing was starved."

The archer and Rick exchanged a meaningful look, though what it meant I wasn't sure, before Rick turned back to me.

"How many walkers you killed?" he asked.

"That what you call them? Too many to count."

"How many people you killed?"

I was half-affronted by that, and I think it read clearly on my face. "None."

"Why?" The look on Rick's face told me I'd better answer his question correctly.

"Never had a reason to." He mulled it over for a moment before his gaze dropped to my hand tucked against my chest.

"Come on then. We'll have Hershel take a look at that hand."

Hershel was an elderly man with one leg. He got around on an old pair of crutches and had the whole apocalypse-Santa thing going on with his overgrown beard and white hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. But he had very kind eyes and a gentle nature as he pulled my injured hand into his lap to get a closer look.

I had been brought into one of the prison cells, no doubt used as an infirmary. Sophia was reuniting with her group in the common area, and I could hear everyone's excitement over seeing her again after so long. I was not alone, though, with Hershel. The dirty archer stood sentry in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he no doubt made sure that I meant no harm to their doctor.

I hissed as Hershel removed the homemade splints from around my fingers, tossing them aside.

"How'd you break 'em?" the archer asked, his voice even rougher than Rick's. I still couldn't see his face very well and it made me just a tad intimidated by him. My gaze bounced to Hershel, who was smiling softly.

"Daryl's bark is worse than his bite," he assured me, as if he could read my mind. Daryl grunted in reply, but he never looked away from me, still waiting for an answer.

"Slammed them in a door running from roamers." I reached up to scratch my forehead with a fingernail as Hershel continued to examine my fingers. I twitched and jerked as he moved my fingers, sending a searing pain up through my arm. "Sophia and I found this little hunting cabin and stayed there a couple days. One morning we woke up and we were surrounded by them. Barely made it out of there. Stupidly got my fingers caught in the door."

"Better than having them bitten off," Hershel countered. "They're definitely broken. I'll need to re-splint them since it doesn't look like your twigs were helping much." His tone was joking and his eyes were bright as he smiled up at me, and I admit, it calmed me a little more, opposite to Daryl's presence.

"I figured, but I tried." I offered Hershel a wry smile in return. Determining I was no longer a threat with broken fingers, Daryl pushed off the doorframe of the cell and turned to head back out into the common area. I couldn't help but watch him. He was silent on his feet but boasted a presence amongst his people. "Is he always so…"

"Brooding? Yes. That's Daryl. Our very own guard dog. He's harmless but loyal to his family." I didn't miss the underlying threat there. _Try anything and he'll come after you._ "How long have you been with Sophia?"

"A couple months now. Ouch." Hershel looked up in apology as he wrapped my fingers in gauze after using a small piece of wood as a splint. It definitely served better than a twig. "I couldn't just leave her there. Plus Ares took a liking to her."

"Well, my thanks go out to you. We were all devastated when we decided to accept the inevitable that she wasn't coming back. Daryl took it the hardest, I think." I looked at the doorway Daryl had walked away from in curiosity. "Our resident redneck isn't as much of a hard-ass as he'd like us to believe."

"Could've fooled me. How can he see through that mane of his?"

Hershel chuckled and sat up straight, leaning back in the chair. "We've all been wondering the same thing. Carol keeps trying to get him to cut it."

"Carol?"

"Sophia's mother. Why don't we introduce you properly?" With that, Hershel grabbed his crutches and hauled himself out of the chair. He hobbled out ahead of me, and heads turned like a flock of flamingoes as I entered the room.

The common room was set up with a number of tables, at which sat the rest of Hershel's group. I found Sophia amongst them, seated next to her mother, but when she saw me, she shot out of her chair and ran over to me to hug me around the waist.

"Are your fingers okay?" she asked, picking up my newly-bandaged hand. I smiled down at her.

"They'll be good as new in no time." Movement out of the corner of my eye made me lift my head, and I balked slightly when Carol stepped in front of me, an unreadable look on her face.

Then she was hugging me tightly, avoiding my injured hand, and I slowly let my arms come around her.

"Thank you so much," she said quietly into my ear. "Thank you for bringing her back to me." As she stepped away she wiped away a fresh bout of tears and gave me a wide, thankful smile that I didn't need to force myself to return.

I shrugged, unsure of what to say to that other than, "You're welcome."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're family now," she told me, and I felt myself lose my breath. She stepped away to sit back down and Sophia went with her, leaving me in a state of massive confusion. Then Rick, Daryl, and Hershel all approached me, crowding around me with the others watching patiently.

"We've talked it out," Rick started, his hands on his hips. Then he turned his bright blue eyes to me and I felt myself wanting to shrink away, but I didn't. His eyes narrowed and he smiled a small grin. "And you're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

I looked between the three of them; Rick was still smiling, as was Hershel, but the archer, Daryl, was watching me through narrowed eyes. Even standing so close I couldn't see what color his eyes were, and it unnerved me. I swallowed, choosing my words carefully.

"If I may ask, what made you decide to let me stay? I mean, you don't know me from Adam."

Rick turned and nodded at Sophia. "She did." He turned back to me and continued, "There aren't many people in this world who would help a child in need, but you did. That says something to all of us. So the offer to stay is there for you."

I turned it over in my head for a few minutes, looking around at the group. Sophia's family. They were all watching me, waiting. I hadn't been around people, besides Sophia, since this whole thing started. It would take me a while to reacclimate to living with other people and socializing like a normal person. But would it be worth it?

I took one look at Sophia, happily reunited with her mom, and my answer was decided.


	4. Chapter 4

I was introduced to the rest of the group after agreeing to stay. The woman who'd been with Glenn at the fence was named Maggie, and was subsequently Glenn's girlfriend and Hershel's daughter. His younger daughter was a petite blonde named Beth, who had a kind face and an even kinder smile. Rick's son was named Carl, and he hugged me tightly, thanking me for bringing Sophia back to all of them.

Already I felt these people were warming their ways into my heart.

Lori was Rick's wife, and she cradled an infant to her chest as she shook my hand, and I had to force myself to stop staring. An infant meant she'd been born during this whole mess, and all I could think was, why? Lori caught the look on my face and she smiled. I felt my cheeks warm knowing I'd been caught.

"I know, a baby in this mess, who'd want to right? We weren't sure it was going to work but…it did. And she's our little blessing." The infant cooed in her mother's arms, and I didn't miss the glance she sent Rick, only for him to turn away. Her smile faltered, but I chose to ignore it. Not my business.

"She's beautiful," I complimented, brushing a finger against the baby's soft cheek. Her chubby hand took hold of my finger and attempted to chew, but Lori pulled her hand away from her mouth.

"That's not for eating, Judy," she scolded gently, bouncing her. I smiled.

"Beautiful name."

"Carl picked it." Lori sent a loving smile to her son, who matched it with a blank look. What was with this family? Lori excused herself then, her eyes looking a little glassy. I watched her go with a frown until Rick cleared his throat and offered to show me to a cell.

"All due respect, I'm posting a guard on your cell for a little while. Sophia vouched for you, but we still don't know you, and you don't know us," he said, looking earnestly remorseful.

"No need to explain, Rick. I respect your caution, and I hope you can accept mine. This is…all very new for me. I haven't been around people for a long time. It's going to take me a little while to adjust."

Rick smiled softly and rested a hand on my shoulder. "I'd say you're doing fine so far. Here we are. This is yours."

The cell was just as I'd imagine a prison cell would be—a bunk bed with a stiff mattress, a small sink, and a tiny, disgusting toilet, although I doubted normal prisons came with small bloodstains on the bed sheets.

"Sorry about the state of the place. Beggars and choosers, you know?" Rick said wryly. I smirked and shrugged. "I'll help you flip the mattress."

My belongings had already been brought into the cell when I'd been brought to Hershel, so I set the pack on the bed and began pulling various things out. Sophia and I had accumulated quite a collection of food stores, so after a moment of thought, I shoved everything back into the pack and carried it out to the common area.

Carol approached me as she saw me and I held out the pack.

"Consider this my first action of acclimating," I joked. "We managed to find a bunch of stuff. Figured I could share."

Carol took the pack from me and looked inside. "Thank you so much, Claire. It's not necessary, but we appreciate it all the same. Are you hungry? Can I make you something?"

"Actually, if it's all right, I think I'll take a can of peaches back to my cell. I'm pretty tired. This," I gestured around me, "has all been a lot to take in." Carol smiled in understanding and handed me a can of peaches out of the pack, and I took my leave, bidding a quick goodnight to those I passed.

Unsurprisingly, Rick was sitting outside my cell when I got there, no doubt taking first watch as my guard. He smiled and I mirrored it tightly, holding up my can.

"Think I'm going to eat and turn in. Been a long day," I said as a way to fill the small silence. Rick nodded, his hand at his belt buckle like some cowboy from an old western film.

"Understood. Goodnight, Claire."

"Goodnight, Rick."

I stepped into my cell, taking notice of the sheet that someone had taken the liberty of hanging in the doorframe for privacy. I sat on the bunk, the mattress creaking under my weight, and popped open the can of peaches. I ate them with my fingers, noisily, before depositing the can on the floor by the head of the bed and laying down with my head on the thin pillow.

As I laid there, in a real bed for the first time in God knew how long, I allowed myself to relax. _No more sleeping with one eye open._ Once I relaxed, I felt the utter exhaustion from the past two months seeping into my bones. Having only slept a maximum of two hours every night since meeting Sophia, my eyelids grew heavy quickly, and before I knew it, I'd slipped off into a deep, thankfully dreamless, sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sound of bustling in the common area. It seemed the group was already awake, and I felt momentarily guilty for allowing myself to sleep in so late. With a long yawn, I sat up and stretched my now-aching muscles. They weren't used to keeping still for the whole night, drowned in a deep sleep. My back popped as I stood up and twisted, trying to bring some life back into my body. Though I was still run down, I felt better than I had in weeks.

Apparently a full night's rest would do that for you.

The group was sitting at the tables when I walked in, straightening my hair in its ponytail. A chorus of good mornings made me smile stiffly. This would definitely take some getting used to. Carol stepped up to my side, holding a bowl of something hot.

"You slept through breakfast, but I saved this for you," she said kindly, handing me the bowl with a spoon. As I ate standing up, she looked me over. "You must have needed that sleep."

I merely nodded, opting for silence on this one. She moved away and I took a seat between Maggie and Lori at the table. Rick, I noticed, as well as Glenn and Daryl, were missing from the common area.

"They're doing patrols and clearing the fences again," Lori said by way of explanation when she noticed my looking around. "The walkers keep building up in the same spots."

"We're going to need reinforcements there pretty soon," Maggie added. "Otherwise that fence is gonna come down."

"Think we can find some beams in this place? Something strong to keep the fences up?" Lori shot back. I swallowed my bite of food, tossing the idea of intervening back and forth before I sucked it up. I was on a trial run here—I should be trying to contribute.

"Not likely in a prison, but if you can locate an old construction site, that'll be your answer," I said. Everyone at the table looked over at me in surprise, and then all at once, they smiled.

"That's a good idea," Carl quipped. "We should check the map when Dad gets back."

It was small conversation after that, mostly people asking me about where I'd come from, where Sophia and I were headed before we found them.

"Just looking for anywhere safe, I guess," I said with a shrug, looking over the table. "We needed somewhere we could stay indefinitely. I'm not sure either of us would have lasted very long if we just kept walking." Somber expressions took over the faces at the table, and more than one person looked down at Sophia.

"Well, we are all very glad you found us when you did," Hershel then spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Here, here," chirped Maggie, Lori, and Carol. I smiled despite myself, sending Sophia a wink across the table.

A clanging in the front entryway drew everyone's attention as Rick, Glenn, and Daryl returned, each looking serious, though Glenn and Rick sent me fleeting smiles as they saw me.

"What is it?" Lori asked, a hand to her throat.

"Fences are buckling," Daryl answered, twisting his mouth to one side. "Need somethin' to keep 'em up."

Then all heads except the three who'd just entered turned to me. This, of course, drew Rick's attention, as well as the other two.

"Claire actually had a great idea," Carol spoke up, sending me a reassuring smile. Shit.

"I was, um," I started with a mumble, "just saying how you might be able to find something at a construction site. Probably something on the map. Zoning maps tend to have them marked." I ran a hand over my ponytail nervously, keeping my eyes on the empty bowl in front of me.

When I glanced up at them through my lashes, Rick was looking at Daryl and Glenn with a grin. Glenn smiled slowly, matching it, while Daryl's expression hardly changed.

"Great idea, Claire," Rick said with an encouraging smile. I couldn't stop myself from smiling too. Rick then turned to the men at his side. "Start packin' up. We'll head out in ten."

With nods, Glenn and Daryl walked off in separate directions to gather their belongings for the trip. Rick didn't follow, however. Instead, he had his hands on his hips and a pointed look aimed at me.

"Claire, you come too. That is, if you're up to it with that hand" he said, nodding down to my bandaged digits.

"Huh? Really?" He nodded seriously. "All right." It only took me a few minutes to put together my pack—a few snacks, a water bottle, and my knife, which I strapped to my side. Settling my pack on one shoulder, I headed out to the courtyard.

Hershel was tending to the crops in the field, sitting in the grass to no doubt give his one leg a break. Carl was helping Michonne saddle the one horse in the paddock, while Beth, Lori, Carol, Sophia, and little Judith enjoyed the sunshine and warm weather. For the first time in a while, I was filled with undeniable hope; this group had truly found their Eden.

As I passed by the group of women, Sophia jumped up from her seat and ran over to me, falling into step as I walked down towards the gate.

"You're going?" she asked, both excited and saddened by the thought.

"I am. I guess Rick wants me to prove myself," I responded, kicking a rock down the field.

"You'll come back though, right?" She'd stopped walking and I turned, smiling reassuringly as her bottom lip trembled. I knelt in the grass in front of her.

"Of course I will. Gonna take more than a broken hand to stop me." I grinned. She gave me a small smile in return. "Hey, I'll be back. My hand doesn't hurt all that much, and I should help them since it was my idea."

That was a lie; my hand was a little achy from Hershel's prodding the day before, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Sophia hugged me around the neck, bending to my level and I squeezed her back tightly.

"Be good for your mom," I told her as we separated.

Daryl, Glenn, and Rick were waiting by the side of a pickup truck when I reached them, each of them nodding once to me.

"Let's go," Rick ordered.

It was a tight squeeze in the pickup. The cab wasn't all that big, but Daryl and Glenn had both volunteered to take the backseat, letting me ride shotgun beside Rick. It hadn't been necessary since I was smaller than both of them, but I wasn't going to argue. The ride was quiet as the truck bumped along the road.

"So where you from?" Glenn asked from the back, leaning forward to poke his head up into the front.

"Here, mostly. We lived outside of Atlanta before all of this went down," I said, waving my hand towards the window.

"We?" Rick asked curiously. I glanced sideways at him.

"My husband and me. We got separated," I answered softly.

"You were married?" Glenn's eyebrows rose as he looked down at my bandaged left hand.

"Am," I clarified. "I am married." It didn't go unnoticed by me when Glenn and Rick exchanged glances, but I left it alone.

The rest of the ride continued in silence up until Rick pulled the truck into an old construction yard that he'd undoubtedly found on a zoning map as I'd suggested. The skeleton of a house stood further back, to remain unfinished until someone decided he needed the wood. The earth was packed down from the construction vehicles. The entire site looked like it had been abandoned before everything fell apart. Rick looked out the windshield hopefully at the stack of railroad ties just sitting there beside a backhoe. Then he looked at me with an approving smile.

"Nice going, Claire. Glenn, Daryl, you help me with the ties. Claire, mind keeping watch? Wouldn't want you to hurt that hand any further."

"Sure thing." I climbed out of the car, followed quickly by Daryl as he pushed open the cab door behind mine. The hunter headed to the back of the truck, lowered the tailgate, and cleared a few things out of the way. He picked up a crowbar, twirling it in his hand before he looked at me.

"Here," he grunted, shoving the crowbar into my hand. "Ain't gon' do much with that dinky knife."

I scoffed. "Thanks."

He merely walked away without a backwards glance, quickly taking his position at the tail end of one of the ties. With another small huff, I climbed onto the roof of the truck, sitting cross-legged and keeping an eye out for anything living or dead.

After the third railroad tie was loaded into the truck, we had company. Three roamers meandered out of the trees, probably drawn by the sound of the ties hitting the truck bed. I sighed and ambled off the roof.

"I got 'em," I told the others as they looked towards the roamers. Spinning the crowbar in my hands, I approached the first roamer and swung the crowbar hard at its head. Its skull caved in, spraying my front with blood and brain matter, and the body landed with a soft thud on the dirt.

The second roamer went down a little slower, being a big son of a bitch. I dodged its waving arms and gnashing teeth, trying to get an angle to knock it to its knees. Spinning around it, I drove my boot into the back of its leg, but it barely moved except to turn and snarl at me. The second walker made its approach, but it didn't get far as an arrow with red and orange feathers embedded in its temple.

Returning my attention to the big walker, it took me five hits before the bastard went down, and I hit him another four times just to be sure. By the time I was done, my arm was coated in its blood nearly to my elbows, and my clothes were covered in the grime.

I was breathing heavily by the time the men came over to me. Daryl had his crossbow by his side. "Thanks," I panted. I dropped my gaze to the big walker and gave its body one last kick for good measure.

"That was…" Glenn started.

"Impressive. Really impressive. Nicely done," Rick finished. "I think we're just about finished here. Eight beams. I think that'll be enough."

As we got back to the truck, Rick handed me a rag from under the seat. "Got walker blood on your face."

Grimacing, I lowered the vanity mirror in the truck and wiped the blood from my face. "Probably look like a serial killer," I muttered, pulling my t-shirt away from me to frown down at the stains that most likely wouldn't come out.

"Carol can get those out for you," Rick said.

"Hope so. It's all I got."

I watched Rick's expression light up as he looked further up the road. A rundown Salvation Army loomed in the distance and he looked over to me with a small smile.

"Shopping?" I said with a grin. Rick pulled the truck to the side of the road as we drew closer to the store, and we took a look at the state of the place from inside the vehicle first. "Looks okay."

"Looks can be deceiving," Rick warned before getting out. The rest of us followed and I reached into the bed of the truck for the crowbar I threw in there, holding it tightly in my grip.

"Keep tight," Rick ordered, causing us to move in close together. "Don't know what we're gonna find in there."

We pressed ourselves against the glass, weapons drawn and ready. Glenn reached over and pounded his fist on the Plexiglas, and we waited. Moments later there were two thuds against the window as the walkers inside gnashed their teeth trying to reach us.

"Looks like it's just the two," I muttered, trying to peer inside to see more.

"Daryl, you take point, Glenn and Claire, you follow. I'll bring up the rear."

Without a word, Daryl yanked the door open and stepped inside. I heard the twang of his crossbow as he took out the first of the two walkers, and then Glenn moved forward to bring his machete down on the second walker's head, cleaving it nearly in two. He yanked the blade free with a grunt while Daryl retrieved his bolt, and we moved further into the store.

We kept in tight formation as we went. Every once in a while Daryl would whistle to try and draw out any walkers that might have been hiding further back. But we soon discovered that the place was clear, and we began rummaging for anything that might be left.

The shelves were stripped pretty clean, but the racks still held a decent amount of clothing. I began poking through it, yanking long-sleeved and short-sleeved shirts off their hangers, as well as jackets, tank tops, sweaters, and anything else that we might need, and stuffed them into a massive black garbage bag that places like this usually offered to customers. I moved onto the jeans rack and paused, not having a single clue what sizes the other women might be. So I grabbed jeans from sizes zero to twelve, doubting that we had anyone that big in the group, but you never knew.

I dragged the bag behind me as I walked towards the front of the store. Glenn was rifling through the shoe racks at the front, a few pairs of men's shoes beside him. He looked up when he saw me, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the massive trash bag.

"Good finds I take it?" he said with a smile. I returned it and nodded before looking down at the few pairs of shoes he pulled out. "Not too much here for women's except high heels, flip flops..."

"Impractical," I muttered. "Where are the others?"

"Rick's looking through menswear. Not sure where Daryl went off to."

I hummed a reply and started walking to the back of the store. I found Rick elbows-deep in a bin of men's t-shirts, a trash bag similar to mine beside him. It already looked mostly full.

"Looks like you're having some luck," I observed, nudging the bat his feet.

"Yeah. I'm surprised this place still has stuff left. I would'a thought it would be picked clean."

"World's running out of survivors," I murmured darkly. He averted his eyes before he resumed digging, and I walked off.

I found Daryl in the far corner of the store, in the area where new deliveries came in. He was rifling through a box until he came up suddenly with something long in his hand. He paused in his movements as he saw me before returning his attention to the weapon in his hand.

"Amazing what people just give away," he grumbled, holding out the seemingly brand new billhook machete, complete with holster and belt. I raised my eyebrows impressively, taking the weapon from his hands. "Ya can have it. Ain't gon' do much with just a knife."

"Oh but I have a crowbar now," I said jokingly, holding the weapon up in my hands. Daryl snorted.

"Ain't gon do much with that neither."

I raised an eyebrow challengingly. "I'm sorry, did you not see me open a can of whoop ass on those walkers back there?"

It felt weird joking around with Daryl. He seemed so moody and broody and stood apart from the rest of the group. But he seemed to take my joking in stride, snorting once more before he turned away to dig through the rest of the bins. I strapped the belt to my waist, feeling lopsided from the heavy weapon weighing down my left side.

"Claire, Daryl, you ready?" Rick called across the store. We hollered back a reply and made our way back to the front of the store. "Need to get back so we can set up those beams. Gonna be a tight fit with these bags."

Tight fit, indeed. Daryl and Glenn were squished in the backseat of the truck with the three giant bags between them, leaving them horribly uncomfortable for the entire ride back. Rick and I were holding back laughs as we rode along.

When we arrived back at the prison late afternoon, Daryl and Glenn didn't wait for the truck to stop before they shoved open their doors and leapt out, much to the amusement of Rick and I. The others wandered down to us, curious to see what we had picked up.

"Claire, oh my god, are you all right?" Carol asked, spinning me to face her so she could look at my bloody clothing.

"I'm fine. Got into it with a couple walkers. Nothing I couldn't handle," I replied, trying to subtly brush her off. She took a step back with a worried frown, a face only a mother could have perfected.

"How's your hand?" Rick then questioned, gesturing to it as I held it against my chest. "Come on, let's go see Hershel and make sure it's all right. Daryl, Glenn, grab Maggie and Carl and let's get those beams up before we lose the light."

I walked with Rick to see Hershel, and the older man reassured me that my hand was fine, but that I should refrain from strenuous activity—in other words, no more runs for a while. In all honesty, I was okay with that. Despite being on the road for so long and keeping myself in shape, I was tired, and there was plenty for me to do around the prison to pull my weight.

I found Rick after a short dinner of squirrel meat stew—the squirrel was courtesy of Daryl, and Carol had masterfully turned it into a stew that wasn't watery or tasteless. She admitted to asking the runners to pick up herbs and spices; if they were going to turn the prison into a home, the meals should taste homely too. I was inclined to agree.

"Hey Rick?" I asked the older man as the others cleaned up. He was holding Judith in his arms, bouncing her softly. I smiled at the sight. "I'd like to take watch tonight, if that's all right. Since Hershel banned me from runs, I'd like to pull my weight in other ways."

"I appreciate the effort," he replied softly as Judith started to drift off. He stopped bouncing her long enough to place a hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to push yourself. You did good today. Daryl and Glenn can handle watch tonight."

"Please Rick, I insist," I pressed. "I don't want to get into a habit of taking people's kindness for granted."

He narrowed his eyes at me for a few moments, remaining silent, and I tried hard not to buckle under his stare. "All right then. I'll tell Glenn he's off the hook. Your shift starts in five hours. I suggest you get some rest. I'll tell Daryl to come get you when his shift is over."

With a grateful nod and smile, I turned away to head up to my cell. Laying on the mattress, I dropped my head onto my pillow, feeling thoroughly exhausted. Before I knew it, I dropped off into sleep.


End file.
